


Shinigami no Tanjoubi

by oninoshirosaki



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2011-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oninoshirosaki/pseuds/oninoshirosaki





	Shinigami no Tanjoubi

Birthdays are a matter of little significance in Soul Society. In a place where everyone ages without _truly_ aging, where everything is seemingly timeless, something so commonplace and _human_ bears little import.

Still, there are some - even amongst the Gotei Thirteen - who choose to partake in the celebration of such an event. 

Kusajishi-fukutaichou, for instance, who - in many ways - is still very much a child. 

Or Ukitake-taichou who recognizes the value of such occasions and sees fit to bestow his companions - Shinigami and Human alike - with gifts; even if said gifts are often ill-received. Perhaps it is because he - more than anyone else - understands the fragility and unpredictability of a being's existence.

And then there are others, like Matsumoto-fukutaichou whose every birthday brings with it heartbreaking loss and the sting of betrayal. Hurt and hope intermingled within a cache of unpleasant memories.

Death is the most central part of a Shinigami's life. For beings who have seen more than their fair share of it, the need to create a life worth living bears more weight and urgency than any of them would care to admit. But immortality has a way of corroding even the most steadfast of wills. 

Life is something to be feared. Death is not, when it's all they know. With each soul they save, their own erodes - turning them into rocks forever stuck to the side of a stream. It is not something one can call living, when all they are is just _being._

\--

Abarai Renji is never content to just _be._

The man _is_ life - he practically _oozes_ it from every pore of his gregarious, logorrheic, impetuous self. Renji _knows_ what gratitude should feel like - growing up in the seventy-eighth district of Rukongai has taught him that. True to his bullheaded nature, he adamantly refuses to become one of those immovable rocks. If the stream is what life has to offer, he chooses to dive right in and follow wherever it may lead. 

Sometimes, when Renji patrols Karakura, he observes its inhabitants - something akin to pity coiling in his gut. A human is no different from a Shinigami when a job becomes nothing more than _just_ a job, when all passion is lost and everything falls into the dull rhythm of mediocrity. When life transforms into a banal routine, there is no turning back. 

An unlived life - that thought scares him more than anything in the world. In some twisted way, the death of his friends have given him a better life - it was why he became a Shinigami. Renji knows a blessing when he sees it. He's witnessed too many unfulfilled lives, therefore does not wish to waste his death.

\--

Kuchiki Byakuya gently rests a gelid hand on his companion's head, alabaster fingers threading through long crimson strands. He proceeds to massage the scalp concealed beneath that fiery mane - in the way he knows his beloved so enjoys.

Renji is lying in Byakuya's lap, fast asleep. The fingers of his left hand are curled tightly around dark cloth, effectively crumpling Byakuya's hakama. His breaths are low and steady, coming out in barely audible murmurs. 

Byakuya's right leg - currently bearing the brunt of Renji's head - has fallen asleep too, but he doesn't mind in the least. He is content to just sit here - beneath the Somei Yoshino in the vast Kuchiki grounds - and stare unabashedly at the look of peaceful calm so blatantly displayed upon his lover's face. 

Renji is a completely different person in private. Every bit of him - his principles, his flaws, his insecurities - are all laid bare before the man who has come to be more than just his superior. 

It is an absolute honor - Byakuya knows - to be the only one in all of Soul Society Renji lets his guard down for. Every barrier, every inch of that brazen, cocksure façade is crumbled before his discerning gunmetal-gray eyes. It is why Byakuya loves his forthright lover so - and why he affords him the same openness and sincerity in return.

On the ground next to him sits an intricate wooden sculpture carved from rich Tupelo; Hihiou Zabimaru coiled around a sakura tree - a miniature version of the very tree under which they rest. It has taken Renji _months_ to carve - every fine detail has been diligently worked on during times he'd claimed to spend drinking with Madarame-sanseki and Iba-fukutaichou.

Byakuya's arms snake around Renji's bare torso, tightening possessively around his lover's tattooed form. He watches a small smile spread across Renji's countenance, delights in the satisfied purr which rumbles from his alluring throat.

Byakuya requires no celebration. Nor does the lengthening of his lifespan merit any form of acknowledgment. In his arms - and within the depths of his heart - is _life_ itself. He needs no birthday, for he has something much better.


End file.
